Beyond the Sea
by lastoneatthedisco
Summary: Kurt walks home from another bad week at school when a stranger in a strange land asks for directions. Little does Kurt know how strange Blaine really is. Not your mama's mermaids. Dry run for a multi-chapter fic in the works. All will be revealed it.


**AN:** This is kinda-sorta for Klaine week on Tumblr, but I've been kicking around this idea for a few weeks, so have some _in medias res_ while I polish up an outline for a multi-chapter work. Lima is now in small-town coastal Oregon, where Kurt meets Blaine, a member of the legendary "sea folk". Basically, Blaine is a fish out of water. If you were around fandom earlier this month, you'll know what my inspiration was. ; )

Kurt sometimes walked home from school by the shore. It didn't matter that the salty spray was unkind to his designer clothes; it's not like they weren't ruined by slushies every day. Besides, the sight of Pacific waves crashing into the beach was calming. Sometimes, Kurt just wanted to think.

School was bad last week. Kurt had hoped that the upcoming spring festival in town would put everyone in good spirits, but Karofsky still slammed him into the lockers as usual. Hard to believe, but he had gotten _more_ violent after Kurt quit the cheerleading team. Kurt just couldn't understand where Karofsky's relentless anger came from. Yeah, other jocks would throw slushies at him, but they did that to all the other kids in glee club. For some reason (maybe one that Kurt doesn't want to think about), Karofsky was everywhere.

Kurt was too far gone in thought to notice someone approaching him on the beach. He felt a tap on the shoulder, which made him jump.

"Excuse me, are you from town? I got a little lost and… are you okay?"

Kurt couldn't believe his eyes. The young man in front of him was carefully standing on the beach, shirtless and barefooted. He held a conch shell against his water-soaked trousers, cuffed at the knees.

Most unbelievable to Kurt though was his face. The kind smile, the cute nose, the hair curling every which way. Even the way that his eyebrows formed into vague triangle was charming. Why would some man who looked like they stepped off the set of a noir film talk to a gangly, girly kid like himself?

Oh, he asked for directions, Kurt thought. Maybe if I stay calm I can guide him to wherever he needs to go.

Kurt cleared his throat. "I'm sorry; I got startled there for a second. How can I help you?"

The young man smiled again, this time a bit smaller. "I wanted to know where the fairgrounds are this year? My family set up camp there; my mother runs a booth at the market during the spring festival. Do you know where it is?"

"Oh, yes, of course. Let me think." Kurt took a step back, away from the young man and the upcoming tide. "From here, it's a little tricky to get to the camps, but I know a shortcut. You can follow me if you want."

"Sure. Do I get to learn the name of my tour guide then?" the young man asked, waggling his eyebrows and grinning.

Kurt barely stifled his laugh. It wouldn't do for him to make fun of a highly attractive man who isn't regarding Kurt with disdain. After all, he might be gay too, and if Kurt knew anything about the migrant people who set up camp for the festival, he knew that they saw gayness in a harsher light than Karofsky. Ugh, why does that Neanderthal keep popping up in his thoughts?

He looked up to see the young man ruffling his hair nervously, as if he expected Kurt to leave him on the beach. "My name's Kurt," he said, offering his hand. "And yours?"

"I'm Blaine. What a pleasure it is to meet you, Kurt." He stared at Kurt's hand for a second. "Why is your hand out?"

"Aren't we going to shake now?" Kurt puzzled.

"I'm sorry; I don't know how to do that. Do you do that with hands?" Blaine waved his hand in front of his face, when it dawned on him. "Oh, I think I remember how to do this! I take your hand in mine -" he does just that, "then I do this."

Blaine slowly, deliberately pulled Kurt's hand toward his cheek, shaking his head against the hands like he was headbanging at a concert.

Kurt's breath caught in his throat. Was he serious? Forget decorum; this guy is _insane_.

Somehow, he couldn't tear himself away from such a silly and surprisingly intimate gesture. Blaine was practically nuzzling against his hand; Kurt swore that he heard the young man murmur "so soft" under his breath.

Blaine let go of Kurt's hand. "Was that right? Because you seemed ill at ease." He frowned.

Kurt wanted to explain that whatever just happened wasn't a handshake, but he also wanted Blaine to go to the fairgrounds, so he ignored it as best he could.

"I'm fine. Follow me."

Kurt began walking along the jagged rocks that dotted the shore, Blaine behind him. "You know, it's not that far away from here. The camps, I mean. I've always wondered what kind of people stay there. Does your family travel a lot, Blaine? My friend Mercedes says that the gypsies are the only ones who set up the camps, but I don't think gypsies would be interested in some low-rent bait shop town like Lima. She swears that the camp is full of gamblers and thieves. All I know is that the lady who weaves my favorite fabric stays in the camps, and she's _never_ tried to cheat me out of money. And I can't believe I'm being so rude! What would you like to talk about, Blaine?"

"Oh! Well, Kurt, do you sing? You sound like you do." Blaine peered hopefully at the back of Kurt's head.

Kurt stopped, causing Blaine to run into him. He turned around, avoiding both Blaine's eyes and chest. "How did you ever guess? I like to sing, but it seems like most people don't want to listen."

"I'll listen. I bet you sound great. Maybe we could sing together?"

"Are you joking? I've tried singing with other boys before, but everybody beats me up because of it. It's too 'gay' to sing period, let alone with another guy."

"Wait, do you get hurt?" Blaine shifted on his feet unsteadily, then looked over his shoulder.

Kurt shrugged. "It's nothing, just some stupid plebes throwing slushies at the glee club." Kurt didn't want Karofsky to take over this conversation, so he didn't tell Blaine about the locker checks, shoves, and lingering looks, all courtesy of Karofsky.

Blaine seemed to understand that Kurt wasn't telling everything, but didn't pry. Might as well go for the easiest question first. "What's a slushie? Does it hurt?"

"Have you never been to a 7-11, Blaine?" He shook his head, causing Kurt's eyes to roll. "Okay, well a slushie is ice with colored syrup mixed into it. It's cold, sticky, and stains clothes like nothing else. Didn't you notice my shirt? This is what a 'five color Friday' looks like."

"I assumed it was meant to look that way."

"Well, it's not!" Kurt snapped.

Blaine pursed his lips and furrowed his brow. "Are you sure you're all right? If you need my help, you are certainly entitled to it. After all, you led me directly to camp over there." He pointed to the forest clearing a little ahead of them. "We must part soon. Will I see you at the spring festival?"

Kurt nodded vigorously. "Wouldn't miss it for the world."


End file.
